Dark Nights
by jenelin
Summary: Set sometime in the midst of Prisoner of Azkaban. Remus Lupin reflecting on Severus and Sirius and sanity and why he hates dark nights even more than the moon.


Dark Nights

**_Dark Nights_**

**by jenelin**

_Author's note: Remus Lupin and any other characters mentioned here belong to the wonderful _Harry Potter_ universe created by J.K. Rowling. Not to me. This is just me giving my favorite character a ride in the Angst-mobile. A lot of people portray Remus as mild and shy and rather peacemaking (apart from that whole werewolf thing). But I think not. The man was quite willing to kill Wormtail on the spot in the Shrieking Shack. So in writing this, I've made him terribly tortured. Poor man - I should write a nice story to cheer him up a little someday. But this is what he gets today - sometime in the midst of _Prisoner of Azkaban_._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tonight there is no moon. Some would think that I would be happy not to see that silvery orb floating in the sky. That shows how little they know me. 

The darkness becomes overpowering. Without a moon in the sky, I feel normal, and I have come to realize that when I think like that, I become more dangerous. 

I am anything but normal. I may hide from the moon and take the potion Severus gives me, but I can never deny what I am. Every month, I become an animal, hungry, wild, horrible. I could rip a man's head off. 

What scares me is the feeling that I could rip a man's head off on a dark night, like this, when I am nothing more than Remus Lupin. When the change comes, I have an excuse for my actions. I cannot control who I am; I lose myself in animal instinct. But I blame myself for anything I do anyhow. 

I know that everyone thinks that I am simply a mild-mannered professor. Shabby and tired and unhealthy. My students think of me as nothing more than a teacher that they like. My fellow professors... 

Well. That's another story. They treat me with respect and kindness, but buried underneath everything there is always distaste. They know what I am, and they cannot forget. 

It is strange. Severus hated me before he knew what I was. He views me with distaste, as the others do, but I do not mind. He does not hate me wholly because of what I am; he hates me because he is Severus, and he is an insufferable man who cannot let go of a grudge. It is so petty that I can laugh at it. Perhaps it keeps me sane. 

I wonder sometimes, if I could lose my sanity. Can someone go mad because of hatred? For I am filled with hatred. It haunts me, and I do not know if I can control it for much longer. Hatred for those who do not understand me, for those who refuse to give me a chance. Hatred for Sirius and what he did to James and Lily. 

I have dreamed of Sirius, of seeing him again. Since he has escaped Azkaban, my dreams have become more violent. I used to dream of meeting him again and yelling at him for what he had done. Now I dream of killing him. Tearing him to pieces and loving every second of it. And I do not dream of an animal ripping him to shreds. I dream of a man so full of hatred that he relishes the thought of killing a man. 

A man who is becoming unsure where the dream ends and reality begins. I cannot imagine that Sirius would survive a meeting with me. He has more to fear from Remus Lupin than from the dementors, for I was his friend. I believe that the hatred of a friend is far stronger than the hatred of an enemy. That is why I do not care what Severus thinks of me. We were never friends. But Sirius was my friend. One of my best friends, someone I loved, someone I trusted. And he betrayed me. I cannot stand betrayal. When he betrayed James, he betrayed me as well. I thought I knew him. 

I never knew that I could have such hatred in me as the hatred I bear Sirius. 

And it is on nights like this, when there is no moon in the sky, that I dwell on these thoughts and am consumed by my hatred and the urge to kill. On moonlit nights I can brush it aside, pretend that it is not me that is thinking these things. Pretend that it is just the moon getting to me. 

But when there is no moon, and the sky is devoid of light, I can blame no one but myself. The darkness of the night fills me, and I want to scream and cry and destroy. I fear my thoughts. I fear my capabilities. I fear my dreams. The moon is nothing compared to this terrible darkness. 

Insanity must come when you are scared of yourself.  
  
  



End file.
